


Fallen

by whimsicalwhims



Category: Alias
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-23
Updated: 2003-12-23
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalwhims/pseuds/whimsicalwhims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sydney runs into Sark on a mission, and they strike a deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own “Alias” or any of the characters in this story. No profit is being made, and no infringement is intended.  
> Archive: No. Do not take this story and post it elsewhere.  
> Spoilers: Early season three.

Today was one of those days that Sydney really wishes she had called in sick to work. She could have been home, spending the day eating ice cream and watching soap operas from the comfort of her own bed. 

Then she wouldn’t be where she is now: running through the streets of Florence, racing for cover before the bullets that zoom by her head can find their mark. She can hear Sark behind her, and while she knows that he’s been hit, she doesn’t dare spare the time to look back to see if he is all right. They have to keep moving if they want to survive the night.

She rounds a corner, searching for some type of cover as they dart into an alley. 

It’s a dead end. 

Sark swears under his breath. “If I may offer a suggestion—“ 

“Just because we’re both running from the same opponent, does not mean that we are on the same side,” she interrupts.

“I would never dare suggest such a thing. However, since we both would like to make it out of here alive, may I suggest a temporary truce?”

She doesn’t seem to have any other choice. “If you sprout off any lines about how we’re destined to work together, I will shoot you.”

That seems to amuse him, because he chuckles softly. That’s twice in recent memory that he’s laughed at her. When exactly did he develop a sense of humor? Though she half suspects that he does it just to annoy her. 

“So what’s your plan?”

“Well, seeing as how we’re both low on ammunition, and greatly outnumbered…”

The shouts are growing louder, and it’s only a matter of time before they are discovered.

He nods towards a large dumpster at the end of the alley. “If we can move that, we should be able to climb up into that abandoned building, and hide out there until it’s safe.”

If this is a trap, and he gets her killed, she swears that she is going to come back and haunt him.

They work quickly, making it inside the building just as their pursuers enter the alley. They don’t dare move until they hear the men leave. 

“It is possible that they could come back. It might be a good idea to stay here for a while until we can slip out unnoticed.”

She hates that she finds herself agreeing with him once more.

The room smells rank, and she’s grateful that they can’t turn on the light. The moonlight that spills into the room provides more than enough light for her to realize that she’s better off not knowing exactly what her surroundings look like.

A sharp intake of breath from Sark’s direction reminds her that he’s wounded. He’s cut away the seam of his jeans, and she can see where the bullet grazed his thigh. It’s just a flesh wound, but it needs to be attended to if he doesn’t want to lose too much blood.

“Take off your shirt.”

He looks shocked. 

She sighs. “Look, unless you plan on bleeding all over the place, I need a bandage for your wound.”

“And here I thought that you were trying to seduce me.”

“Hardly.” But she has to avert her eyes as he hands her his shirt. The glimpses that she catches of his bare chest are too tantalizing, and it takes all of her self control to keep her cheeks from flushing. 

She rips the shirt into strips, asking, “Any idea why Valentino’s men were shooting at you? I thought he was supposed to be on your side.”

“I may have leaked information about his operation to the CIA when I was in their custody,” he reluctantly admits as she ties the makeshift bandage around his thigh.

“And yet you still decided to rely on his intel.” She pulls harder than she really needs to. “Sark, you betrayed countless people who were only looking out for themselves. Didn’t you think that one day you’d be compromised too?” 

The slight pursing of his lips tells her that he doesn’t like hearing this, but too bad. Somebody needs to hammer the truth into his thick skull, and it might as well be her.

She opens her mouth to speak again, but it seems that he doesn’t want a lecture because suddenly he’s kissing her instead. His tongue sweeps her mouth, exploring every crevice, and somebody help her because she’s kissing him back.

“This is madness,” he whispers.

It is, because she can taste her own destruction on his lips. But she can’t keep her hands from exploring his smooth skin, and she doesn’t stop his fingers as they move to unfasten the buttons on her shirt.

And as they tumble to the ground, she can’t help but think that everything is about to change.

*****

It’s still dark when she wakes up. Peeling his arm off from where it rests around her waist, she fumbles for her clothes.

As she rushes to the bathroom, she thinks that she is going to be sick.

She leans over the toilet, retching up last night’s supper. There’s a blurry figure in the mirror, so she knows that he’s standing behind her. But he doesn’t speak, and she’s grateful for that small kindness.

Because all she can see is Francie’s face. Francie’s eyes accusing her of a multitude of sins.

She waits until she hears him shut the door and leave, before she lets herself cry. What’s left of her self preservation reminds her that there’s a dangerous terrorist on the other side of the bathroom door, and that she should be planning escape routes, not giving into her pain. But she has just committed the ultimate of betrayals, and for once rationale will have to take a back seat to her grief.

It’s almost an hour before she is able to pull herself off the floor. Another fifteen minutes to straighten her clothes and fix her hair, and she braces herself to face him.

“Are you all right?” he asks as she enters the room. She tells herself that she is imagining the concern in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she answers, but they both know it’s a lie. She hasn’t been fine in a long time, and it is only her ability to compartmentalize that has kept her sane.

He nods in understanding, wiping away the traces of her tears from her eyes.

She knows that she should repel his touch, because it doesn’t make sense that he should be the one to comfort her now. But the pull she feels towards him is too strong, and she can’t push him away. 

“Join me, Sydney,” he murmurs against her lips. “We work well together. With our combined efforts, we can take down the Covenant.”

“I don’t want revenge,” she says, but her words sound hollow even to her own ears.

“No, but you need it.” He releases the clip that holds back her hair, running his fingers through the strands as he continues, “Sooner or later, you will seek retribution for what they did to you.”

“I think that you’re confusing the two of us.”

“We’re not so different, you and I.” He gives her a crooked half smile. “But I know you, Sydney. You hate the thought of being made a pawn when you were so clearly destined to be the queen.”

“But if the queen is captured, the game is over.”

“Not if she’s adequately protected.”

“Is that really how you see all of this? That we’re just players in some game?”

He trails his thumb over her bottom lip. “We all play the roles we are given, nothing more. It’s the moves we choose to make that are important.”

And in this scenario he sees her as the queen? For a moment she wonders if he realizes just what he’s revealing by telling her this, but then the gleam in his eyes reminds her that everything he says and does is deliberate. No doubt he has his own endgame, completely separate from taking down the Covenant.

But she still has to bite her lip to keep from asking what part he sees himself as having. Her valiant white knight, perhaps? An uncontrollable giggle escapes at the very thought.

“Care to enlighten me as to what you find so amusing?”

She shakes her head, moving to the window, and staring at the still sleeping city through the cracked windowpane. If she does this, if she partners with Sark, then nothing will ever be the same. She pushes away the nagging thought that after last night her world has already been altered beyond repair.

“Have you come to a decision?”

Across the street, lights begin to be turned on, as people awaken to start their days, seemingly oblivious to everything else going on around them. She envies that innocence.

She turns back to Sark, absently noting that he is not bothering to hide his impatience. Last night she had believed that he would be her downfall, that giving in to him would lead to her own destruction. But now she realizes that she had fallen long before she had ever felt the seductive allure of his touch. Too many compromises had been made; she had already blurred the lines too many times. 

And suddenly it all seems so simple.

“Yes, I’ll help you.”

 

~End~

December 23, 2003


End file.
